Disclaimer: You're going to hell. At least it'll be a sweet ride. Oh, and all
this belongs to Joss. Wouldn't he be shocked to see young Dawnie like this!

Spoilers: Angel S5.

Rating/Pairing: NC-17, Illyria/Wesley, Buffy/Dawn, Illyria/Harmony.

Codes: F/f, F/F, M/F, Oral, Voy, Semi-NC.

Distribution: Yes please.

Summary: Illyria discovers the sexual side of the human body - and mind -
spurred on by Wesley's lewd memory of Buffy & Dawn. This is basically PWP.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In its time, warmth was unheard of. There existed only the freezing cold of
the outer universe and the blistering fire of the world being birthed.

Now there was heat, warmth, cool winds, icy chills, and everything
in-between.

For the first time, Illyria had form, had shape that remained constant.
Before, its body had been immense, its form whatever it pleased. This body
had. things not quite familiar. Orbs hung off the front of it. These, Fred's
memory told it, were for nursing a newly made human. Yet, when touched,
stroked, they became. enflamed. Nipples hardened. These breasts ached, when
Wesley-

Fred had all sorts of data on that.

But there was more. It had orifices. The shell used them for expelling
excrement it no longer needed (in its age, all was consumed). For releasing
unwanted fluids. And yet, when explored, when it inserted a finger - or
more - inside, these orifices sent. signals.

The signals, said the memory of Fred, were called pleasure.

Pleasure controlled these. things.

It had held power, so much power, unimaginable in this world. Lesser beings
had worshiped it. Lesser beings had fought wars and slaughtered millions for
the *right* to worship it. For the right to call it God. Illyria had sat
alone at the apex of all things. Deities trembled before it. The Wolf, Ram,
and Hart hid from its gaze.

Now that foul beast enslaved legions.

Then, all that had mattered was victory. Thus had its reign persisted.

Now, the world that Illyria should have stalked with impunity was ruled by
pleasure. Ruled by emotions.

That was the worst of it.

* * *

Wesley told of something he should not have seen, of something he should not
have done. He'd been a Watcher, sent to observe those more powerful than
himself. A girl, in particular, whom his people mistakenly thought they could
control. The girl was a Vampire Slayer, called Buffy (but perhaps this was
one of Wesley's strange half-truths, what he called jokes. It angered Illyria
that its guide might fib, but Fred's databank assured her it was truth - the
Slayer of half-breeds was named Buffy). She was the most powerful warrior of
the human species.

This Buffy had a sister (and yet didn't - foolish humans, it seemed they
couldn't help but meddle with reality), named Dawn. Dawn was not a Vampire
Slayer, not a warrior. Dawn was a girl, in the reality that mattered.

Once, as Watcher, Wesley told it, he'd overheard the two, when they'd
believed themselves alone. The younger had been fourteen of his human years
(the passing of moments, the blink of an eye, to Illyria), and new to the
human concept of sexual desire.

"Buffy," he'd heard her ask, "what's it like to kiss someone?"

"Anyone in particular?" the older girl had shot back. This, according to
Wesley, was called teasing.

"Just, you know, anyone" the younger teen had replied.

What happened next, Wesley called naughty. Fred's memory said naughty meant
wrong. It also said naughty meant good.

* * *

Buffy sat down in front of her sister, reached forward, and took the girl's
head in her hands. She stroked her baby sister's hair, then pulled Dawn
inwards. Dawn's eyes closed. Her lips parted ever so slightly. Buffy leaned
in.

Their lips met in the middle.

They kissed, long, passionately, and Dawn moaned. It was a soft, sweet sound,
one that would stir the loins of any man.

Watching them, hidden, Wesley was only somewhat surprised to find his dick in
hand. And that he was stroking it, slowly.

The girls continued their embrace. Buffy's hand found her sister's breast,
slipped under her shirt, and pulled aside her training bra. With Dawn's
clothes in disarray, one pink, innocent, succulent nipple could be seen. It
capped a budding breast, a gentle cream-colored morsel of delight.

Wesley's hand pumped faster.

The sister's tongues dueled, betrayed by the movement in the younger girl's
cheeks. Buffy's head lowered to Dawn's breast. She latched on, teased,
sucked, causing little sister to cry out in pleasure.

"Buffy!"

Wesley came. Then fled.

He never caught the sisters like that again.

* * *

So long ago, by his mortal years, and yet it had seemed so vivid to him.
Illyria could almost see it first hand when Wesley recounted it.

And it did not understand.

Fred would have. But the demon had memory without comprehension, without
interpretation. So it remained confused.

And prior to that, senior member of the most popular bitches at Sunnydale
High.

Cordelia, of course, had Queen. Queen C, long live her reign. Harmony was
her first maid. They dated the best jocks, but never fucked them. They only
fucked rich, older guys, who lavished toys - and cash - upon them. Stupid,
on reflection, since they'd already been rich. That was why they were popular
in the first place. Still, a new dress here, a CD Player there.

At least, Harmony had fucked them. Come to think of it, Cordelia had been
something of a tease. A cock-tease, plain and simple.

Harmony, on the other hand, knew the rules. She knew how to get what she
wanted.

And knew when she was beat.

Honesty time, thought Harm - that's pretty often.

She thought this just as Illyria pinned her to the table. The bitch in Fred's
body - Harmony knew it was a demon, but she couldn't help applying the female
gender to it; it was wearing Fred's body after all - was strong. If it wanted
her dead (really dead, not just undead), she'd be dust.

The vampire was extremely surprised to find herself forced to her knees in
front of the fallen god a second later. Even more surprised at Illyria's
command:

"Eat me."

As a human, Harmony hadn't exactly been inexperienced. Far from it. As a
vampire, she sunk to all sorts of glorious lows - and that didn't even
include Spike. Still, the girl-girl thing was lost on her. If there wasn't
a cock jamming into one of her holes, Harmony just wasn't interested.

Not that she had a choice now. She just hoped Illyria wasn't expecting much -
she'd never gone down on anyone before. Not even Cordy, when the two were at
their drunkest.

Confusion set in, however, when Harm discovered that she had no idea how to
get the demon's little red leather getup off. There didn't seem to be buckles
or straps. Ready to ask - in the meekest, most diminutive voice possible -
just how she was supposed to "unwrap" her "gift", she froze: something about
Illyria. Shifted. What appeared to have been cloth became flesh. Illryia's
outfit was now crotchless.

Interesting.

Harmony reached out tentatively with the tip of her tongue. Licked at the
pink folds in front of her. Illyria was shaven clean - or had she done that
the same way she'd changed her outfit? Probably she had.

The next thing Harm knew, the red-clad demon had a hand clutching the back
of her head, forcing her down on itself. Twenty minutes later, they'd moved
to the desk, and Illyria was riding her face, thighs clamped, holding her
head in place. She was actually bucking and bouncing, which resulted in
Harmony's skull repeatedly smacking the table. The demon's juices were
flowing freely, almost running like a tap, into her mouth and down her
throat. She was pretty sure the thing that looked like Fred had cum twice
already. Had Harmony been human, she'd have passed out long ago - there was
no way to breathe, trapped between Illyria's legs, with her crotch pressing
down - skinny as she was, those legs were powerful, just another sign that
Winifred Burkle had long ago left the building.

* * *

When it finished with the vampire, it kissed her cheek. Fred's memory said
it was the thing to do after lovemaking. That same memory, however, claimed
that what they'd done wasn't precisely "lovemaking." It claimed Harmony had
been taken advantage of - been "used and abused." There were words that could
be said. Some made it better. Some didn't.

Harmony looked well-worn, her red silken blouse ripped down one side,
buttons burst on the front, tits hanging out. But she didn't look
displeased, exactly, though her hair was disheveled and her panties
soaked through and showing the outline of her twat. Slutty, with a
smile on her face - definitely not displeased. More like proud of a
job well done.

Illyria opted for the final suggestion from Fred's repertoire:

"Thanks for the ride, bitch."

It was learning.

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